“Come, Tom, it is about time for you too see something of the city,” said Ben Lethbridge, one afternoon, after the regiment had become fairly settled in its new quarters.
“I should like to take a tramp. There are lots of congressmen here, and I should like to know what they look like,” replied Tom. “I haven’t been outside the lines since we came here.”
“I have; and I’m going again! Fred and I mean to have a good time to-day. Will you go?”
“Have you got a pass?”
“A pass! What a stupid! What do you want of a pass? You can’t get one. They won’t give any.”
“Then we can’t go, of course.”
“Bah! What a great calf you are! Don’t you want to cry again?”
“Ben, you needn’t say cry to me again as long as you live,” added Tom. “If you do, I’ll give you something to cry for.”
Tom did not like the style of remark which the other had adopted. He was angry, and, as he spoke, his fist involuntarily clinched, and his eye looked fierce and determined.
“Come, come, Tom; don’t bristle up so. If you are a man, just show that you are, and come along with us.”